Crack'd
by LisaT
Summary: When Constance Hardbroom drags a misbehaving third year off to Miss Cackle's office, neither Miss Cackle nor the office are what she expected to find. Mashup fic combining 1998 TWW with the 2017 reboot. Reviews much appreciated!
1. Chapter 1

**This story has largely grown out of my inability to reconcile 'Hecate' and 'Ada' with 'Constance' and 'Amelia'. This was what I came up with. Be warned, there's very little in the way of setup so fasten your seatbelts, folks. Oh, and there's unconsciousness involved ...**

* * *

 **The mirror crack'd from side to side;**

 **'The curse is come upon me,' cried**

 **The Lady of Shalott.**

 **-Tennyson, _The Lady of Shalott_**

* * *

 **One**

* * *

'Much though it pains me to say so, Pythia Hallow, you are _without doubt_ the most heedless girl to have _ever_ graced this establishment, and I am sure that Miss Cackle—' Miss Hardbroom paused mid-rant to stare as she threw open the door to the Headmistress's office and was met with the unexpected sight of a completely unfamiliar room.

'Miss Hardbroom?' Pythia prompted as the Deputy Headmistress continued in her state of stupefied (and completely uncharacteristic) silence. 'Miss, is something wrong?'

Constance Hardbroom threw the girl a look that was as exasperated as it was distracted. Pythia, niece to Sybil and Ethel Hallow and daughter of Griselda Blackwood, was possessed of a level of insouciance that often took the Deputy Headmistress's breath away. It wasn't cheek, not exactly, but Constance could never decide whether it derived from artlessness or cunning.

'Not at all,' she snapped automatically, her eyes still fixed incredulously on the transformation that had seemingly occurred in Amelia Cackle's office. Gone was the small but comfortable room she knew so well, with its incongruously warm blue walls, rich wood, badly abused filing cabinet, and peeling paint. Instead there were soaring ceilings, ancient stone, and gorgeously carved furniture. More worrying still was the woman ensconced behind the desk, looking as if she'd every right to be there.

'Miss, if you're going to yell can't we get this over with?' Pythia pleaded in a burst of almost-cheek that drew Constance's full attention back to her. 'What's going on? Aren't we going in? Where's Miss Cackle?'

'Pythia _Hallow_ —' Miss Hardbroom began, only to have her tirade interrupted by the advent of Cackle's chanting mistress, who approached with a glare worthy of Constance herself.

'You here, again!' Sybil Hallow accused, marching up to stand between the Deputy Headmistress and Pythia. 'What've you been doing now—in fact, don't tell me, I don't want to know.' She turned to a stunned Constance. 'Were you bringing her to Amelia?'

Constance blinked and forced herself to gather her scattered wits. 'I was, but something has ... come up.' Surreptitiously, she closed the office door but Sybil was too busy glaring at her niece to notice. 'Miss Hallow, could you, er ... take over? There is something I must see to.'

'With pleasure, Miss Hardbroom.' There was a steely glint in Sybil's eyes as she shepherded her niece away, and Constance permitted herself a brief smile. She'd argued long and loud against Sybil's acceptance as a replacement for Lavinia Crotchet the year before because of Pythia, but was (unusually) ignored by Amelia. For once Amelia was proven correct and Sybil was stricter with Pythia than with anyone else-much to the Third Year's disgust.

Once certain she was entirely alone, Constance inhaled a deep breath and opened the door a second time, hoping that all would be as it should.

Vain hope.

The ceilings and furniture and incredible windows were still there, as was the woman who was almost Amelia but not.

Remembering her apothecary's dire warnings about the state of her blood pressure, Constance forced herself not to explode on the spot. The effort nearly made her combust internally, but at last the not-Amelia glanced up with a smile that slipped away immediately.

'Who are you?' she demanded, rising. 'Where's Hecate?'

Constance folded her arms, her fingers in their familiar casting position, and returned glare for glare. 'Who am _I_? It would be more correct to ask who are _you_. Where is Amelia?'

The shorter woman seated herself once more. 'I've no idea who you're talking about.' She settled herself comfortably, resting her chin on her folded hands. 'Since this is my school I suggest you tell me who you are. Common courtesy, you know.'

' _Your_ school?!' Constance echoed and the not-quite-Amelia smiled, her glasses sliding treacherously down her nose.

'This _is_ Cackle's Academy, is it not?'

'Yes,' Constance admitted grudgingly after a long pause.

'Then it is my school. I don't know who you think you are, or if this is a joke, but I assure you I don't find it very funny and neither will Hecate—'

'How can it be your school when it belongs to Amelia Cackle?' Constance erupted, her temper overcoming her good intentions, and the other woman's glasses fell off her nose.

' _Amelia_ Cackle?'

'Amelia,' Constance repeated. 'She inherited the academy from her—'

'—mother,' the woman supplied while Constance glared and finished, ' _grandmother_.'

'I assure you, Cackle's Academy is mine. I inherited it from my mother thirty years ago—'

'That's impossible,' Constance snapped. 'This is my thirty fifth year at the academy and Amelia was running the school for twenty years before that- _and_ we have a member of staff who was here when Granny Cackle taught.'

'Miss Bat,' the other woman said with the air of one who has reached an epiphany and Constance stared.

'Yes. She doesn't teach any more, but—'

The Miss Cackle-who-wasn't circled her desk to stand in front of Constance, peering up at her from disconcertingly familiar grey eyes.

'And let me guess. You are Amelia Cackle's Deputy Headmistress, Miss Hardbroom?' Constance gave a regal nod and a fine line appeared between the shorter woman's brows as she rose on tippy-toes to peer closer. 'Hecate?'

'Constance,' the owner of the name corrected in her most supercilious fashion. 'And what, pray tell, is _your_ name if it is not Amelia?'

The grey eyes twinkled.

'I didn't say it wasn't, but my first name is Ada. Ada ... _Amelia_ ... Cackle.'

If Constance's tightly coiffed hair had not already been wrestled into total submission, it would have stood on end. _A. A. Cackle_. The same initials as Amelia's ... and she found herself wondering if Amelia's middle name was 'Ada'...

A second thought occurred. This woman, this Ada Cackle, looked not much more than sixty-just a few years older than Constance's own fifty eight. And yet Constance knew there was a full twenty years between herself and Amelia.

'Miss Cackle ... Ada ... tell me one thing. What year is it?'

Ada cocked her head to one side, birdlike. 'It's 1998. Why?'

Constance groaned and collapsed limply into a chair as she recalled the momentous event of that year. 'Of course.' Tension formed a tight band above her brows and she rubbed at it in a futile attempt to alleviate the discomfort. 'So tell me, Ada. Have you recently accepted a girl from a unmagical family?'

Ada smiled broadly. 'As it happens, we have. A delightful child, she's already saved the school once. Her is name is Mildred—'

'Hubble,' Constance finished tragically, allowing her head to come crashing down into her hands. ' _Of course_ it would be.'

* * *

Mildred muttered to herself as she crossed her classroom whilst carrying one pile of books and levitating another before her, fully intending to dump the lot in the staff room as soon as possible. She had a double lesson with the Thirds straight after Break, and today's Thirds were just as mischievous as Mildred and her cronies had been some fifteen years before.

She was trying to work out how to keep her various books in place whilst opening the door when a voice that sounded like Constance's said in her head, _Call yourself a witch, Mildred Hubble?_ Send _them to wherever you want them to go, girl!_

Grateful for the hint—even if it _had_ come from her scarily accurate inner HB—Mildred was just about to visualise the required spell when she heard 'Mildred Hubble!' boomed in those same tones. The combination of shock and her own recent reflections caused her to act like the pupil she'd been rather than the teacher she now was.

In other words, she dropped the sketch books. All of them. They came down with an almighty crash and Mildred cringed reflexively, her fair skin flaming as she fell her to knees and tried to frantically scrabble them together before Miss Hardbroom entered. It was only when she realised that she could still hear Miss Hardbroom scolding from afar that she fully came to herself.

 _That's odd,_ she thought, crawling forward to open the door very slightly so she could see into the corridor beyond. _Constance never does that—_ Her breath caught.

Miss Hardbroom (or someone who looked very like her) was indeed lecturing and Mildred blinked as she took in the victim: a young girl with two long plaits, one sock pulled up properly whilst the other twisted askew, bootlaces trailing disconsolately on the floor. It was, in fact, an excellent representation of Mildred herself at thirteen or so, and indignation welled as she jumped to her feet. Was this someone's misguided idea of a _joke_?

 _This has got to_ stop _. Heaven help the would-be H.B. if Constance gets hold of her. Expulsion would be the best of it..._

Without stopping to think further, she vanished her sketchbooks with a wave of her hand and stepped into the corridor, allowing her robes to billow around her in silent reminder of her status as a fully professed witch.

She folded her arms. ' _Girls!_ What is going on here?'

Little 'Mildred' and second schoolgirl twitched, their expressions turning puzzled, whilst 'Miss Hardbroom's' eyes narrowed in a manner that inevitably promised trouble from the Real Thing.

Mildred shook her head in reluctant admiration. Really, the impersonation was incredibly good. Perhaps Constance could be persuaded that imitation was the sincerest form of flattery.

'I'm going to count to ten,' she went on. 'You have until then to return to your usual selves—or I'll march all of you straight to Miss Cackle.'

'HB' gave a wintry smile. ' _Precisely_ my intention, Miss—?'

Mildred's admiration evaporated. A joke was a joke but this was taking things too far. 'That's enough! Ten seconds, that's all you're getting. Ten, nine ...' She heard fingers snap and her surroundings dissolved.

* * *

Amelia Cackle hummed tunelessly as she perused the day's papers from her comfy seat near the fire in the staff room. The crackling flames were delightful company and she stretched as far as her arthritic joints would allow, wanting to benefit from as much of the soothing heat as she could before returning to the draughtier environs of her study.

A plaintive mew made her glance over the top of her paper and she smiled. She wasn't the only one with creaking joints; Mildred's beloved Tabby—eighteen this year and still going strong—would also benefit from the fire. A swift motion and the cat appeared on her lap, looking mildly annoyed.

Amelia scratched under his chin. 'Poor Tabby,' she crooned. 'You've never entirely reconciled to being a witch's cat, have you?' Tabby's purr vibrated through her fingers and she chuckled. 'I know, I know, this is all you've ever wanted. A nice fire and someone to—'

She was cut off by a brief flash. As the retina-burn faded Amelia's eyebrows collided at the number of people that suddenly filled the small room, ranging in age from a pair of first years (Amelia knew that from their sashes; it was too much to expect at her age that she should remember the name of _every_ girl a mere three weeks into the new academic year) to a woman whose resemblance to Constance was positively eerie.

'Miss Cackle—' three voices began at once and Amelia silenced them with a swift gesture, an icy finger running down her spine. Two of those voices were very familiar—impossibly familiar—and the third was ever so slightly off. Grunting with the effort, the elderly Headmistress levered herself to her feet.

'One at a time, h'mm?' She allowed a gentle smile to play about her lips and turned to her arts and spells mistress. 'Miss Hubble, if you would?'

' _Hubble?_ ' one of the first years blurted, a stocky child with curly pigtails and glasses. 'Millie, I thought you said your family isn't witchy?'

'It's _not!_ ' her taller friend protested and Miss Hubble directed an unnervingly Hardbroom-like glare at the child.

'That's _quite_ enough of that,' she said sternly and Amelia hid a smile; did her arts mistress realise how like Constance she occasionally sounded? 'Miss Cackle, it seems that some of our girls have a ... suicidally misguided sense of humour. However—' Mildred muttered a quick reversing spell and Amelia, watching, held her breath—but she'd known before the younger woman started that it was no good.

'It's not magic, Mildred, or not in the way you think,' she said quietly as the Constance-clone and the girls remained as they were. 'These people are ... exactly what they seem.' She glanced at the Constance-clone. 'For instance—Miss Hardbroom?'

The Constance-clone nodded, her scowl lifting. 'Thank heavens for someone with a grain of sense. Hecate Hardbroom ... Miss Cackle?'

'Miss Hardbroom, I don't understand,' young Mildred put in before Amelia could respond. She pointed at her older self. 'Is that ... me?'

Miss Hubble was doing plenty of staring on her own account. When she stepped forward, hand outstretched towards her double, Amelia grabbed her arm.

'You mustn't, Mildred. If she's your younger self—'

'—the two of you cannot exist in the same moment in time. If you were to touch her—' Hecate made a single decisive movement and Amelia sent a grateful nod as Miss Hubble subsided, her hands clasping tightly.

'Does that mean Millie could _die?_ ' the pig-tailed child demanded, her eyes going round, and Amelia realised who she must be.

'Maud Moonshine?'

' _Spellbody_ , Miss Cackle,' Hecate corrected, and Miss Hubble straightened, her warm brown eyes taking on a gleam that Amelia knew too well.

'Maybe we're not the same. Think about it. Hecate instead of Constance. Moonshine instead of Spellbody—'

'Even so, it would be sheer foolishness to take the risk,' Hecate snapped and Amelia repressed a smile as Mildred recoiled. Some things were constant, names to he contrary.

Time, however, was not. The child Mildred might have faded into meek silence, but her older counterpart did not, unafraid to face Hecate squarely as an equal.

'So what do you suggest we do? _Something's_ going on.'

Hecate's eyes narrowed into black slits. 'Miss Hubble, I am sad to see that you are _almost_ as annoying a colleague as you are a pupil. I believe you are half-right,' she continued condescendingly as Mildred rolled her eyes. 'The differences are ... intriguing. We must gather everyone together and investigate this further, but everyone must understand that two versions of the same person _must not touch!_ Do _you_ believe the girls will understand that and obey?'

'If it was properly explained—'

'Mildred Hubble, I can assure you that _no matter_ how well this was explained there would _still_ be someone to disobey,' Constance's voice boomed around the room before she flashed into her usual spot behind Amelia's chair. 'Once upon a time it would have been _you_.'

'Oh my God, there's two of them!' the child Mildred squeaked and Amelia had to bite her lip when Hecate sneered, 'Believe me, girl, the feeling is _mutual_.' Behind her, she heard a swift exhalation as Constance laid eyes on her doppelgänger for the first time.

'Brace yourselves, there's another double to come,' Constance added, her fingers snapping so close to Amelia's ear that the Headmistress flinched. 'Ada Cackle, show yourself!'

Ada did. More slowly than Constance had managed, but in truth Amelia was impressed her _alter ego_ had mastered this particular skill at all; it was notoriously difficult.

The next surprise came when Hecate crossed to stand by Ada and the older woman squeezed her hands in an unmistakable gesture of silent reassurance. Amelia refrained from glancing towards Constance; she could imagine the look on her deputy's face all too well.

 _Maybe Mildred has a point. With the exception of Mildred herself, none of us are_ exactly _alike_ ...

With that thought in mind, she took a step closer to Ada, surreptitiously allowing her fingers to brush her other self's pink-clad arm while she held her breath.

 _If something happens to me, it doesn't matter, I've had my life—_

But Ada simply turned with a warm smile that brought a lump to Amelia's throat. Whilst Ada was not her twin in the same way the much-loathed Agatha was, there was certainly a resemblance that went beyond the superficial. More than that, Ada was the spitting image of Amelia's beloved and long-dead grandmother, the Granny Cackle from whom she'd inherited the school.

' _Amelia_ —' Constance gasped, but as Ada clasped her hand the Headmistress knew she'd done the right thing.

'It's all right, Constance,' she said, turning to face her deputy. 'I had to test Mildred's theory. It seems we're not identical after all; you should try it.'

'I think not,' Hecate said haughtily and Amelia caught a look in Ada's eye when Constance sniffed in agreement. Swiftly, she looked away again. This was not the moment for laughter.

'What about Millie?' young Maud demanded and Amelia beamed mistily at her. Maud Moonshine's unflinching loyalty to her haram-scarum friend was a defining feature of their schooldays; it was comforting to see the same trait alive and well in Maud Spellbody.

'The Mildreds must stay away from each other until we've had a chance to investigate further,' Constance said sharply, her dark eyes flicking from child to adult. 'I mean it, girls.'

'Yes, Miss Hardbroom,' the Mildreds said in unison and once again Amelia had to struggle with that unholy desire to laugh.

'But before that, these girls should return to their form room. The bell is about to go.' As Hecate finished the bell pealed in vindication and she smirked. 'Off you go girls, on the double—'

'Wait,' Miss Hubble interrupted, ignoring Hecate's gimlet-eyed stare. 'Where are we sending them?' She looked at Constance. 'Is their form room even going to be where they expect it to be?'

Constance nodded. 'You have a point, Mildred.' She glanced at Amelia. 'Your office has ... gone, for want of a better word.'

' _Gone?_ '

'Changed, rather.' Constance's gaze flicked towards Ada. 'Into your counterpart's office, I believe. It is ... very different.'

'Less beaten,' Hecate suggested with a quick glance around the similarly 'beaten' staffroom and Amelia winced when Constance's lips thinned.

'I prefer "homely",' the older Mildred put in before the Deputy Headmistress could retaliate. 'My classroom is the same. I could—'

'Mildred, did you hear what I just said?' Constance scolded. 'You and your ... other self are not to be together. That is an order, Mildred Hubble.' A pause, and then: 'Must I find a way to enforce it?'

'But Miss Hardbroom—'

'No buts, Mildred Hubble!' Constance tutted. ' _Honestly_ —'

'Sybil could take her,' Amelia suggested as Mildred subsided, her cheeks very flushed.

'And what if we've lost Sybil?' Mildred demanded. 'If bits of the castle are changing without warning—'

'Oh, she's here.' Constance cupped her hands around her mouth and whispered and sure enough, only a few minutes later the staffroom door opened to admit a puzzled chanting mistress. 'Ah, Miss Hallow. Good of you to come so quickly,' Constance began with an amiability that Amelia knew any Cackle's pupil or old girl would deem suspicious—as indeed Sybil did, judging from the swift look she sent Miss Hubble. 'I believe you're free this lesson?'

'Actually, I—' Sybil began but Constance cut her off.

'Excellent. You can supervise these two.' She indicated the young Mildred-and-Maud duo before pushing the pair towards the chanting mistress. 'We're very grateful to you. No, there's no time for exclamations or explanations just now. Just take them—oh, for goodness _sake!_ ' And a wave of her hand dismissed the startled first years along with a protesting chanting mistress.

Amelia groaned, realising that she was developing a headache. 'I'm not sure that was the right thing to do, Constance.'

'If they've disappeared—' Hecate took a towards Constance, her manner verging on the threatening.

'Wherever they are, they're safer than in here,' Constance retorted with a meaningful nod in Mildred's direction—which, not surprisingly, provoked that young woman into a glare.

'In case you've forgotten, I'm not a schoolgirl any more. I'm perfectly—'

'Ladies, _please_!' Amelia called, wondering if it was indeed her fate to spend her life eternally refereeing slanging matches between her staff. Ada's sympathetic glance seemed to indicate that it was, and she heaved a sigh dredged from her boots. 'I think we can all agree that we need to work out what's going on. And that means working together— _all_ of us.' She carefully refrained from looking at Constance, Constance's double, or their former pupil. 'It might be the only way we—'

A series of rumbles growing in intensity cut her off, the wooden floorboards beneath her feet twisting and buckling. The lights (thankfully no longer candles, but electricity; even Constance could not halt progress indefinitely) flickered into nothingness. Amelia was about to call out a reassurance when there was an almighty crack, a stomach-flipping moment of falling—searing pain... and nothing more.

* * *

 **So there you have it. The first bit. Worth continuing? Looking forward to hearing (reading) what you think!**


	2. Chapter 2

_Flowery thanks must go to Cheekbone Queen, aka ZeIncomparableEm, Liane, and the stargate time traveller for their delightfully encouraging reviews. Liane, there's a line here just for you..._

 _As for the rest of it, this is an admitted piece of insanity!_

* * *

 **Two**

* * *

Mildred moaned as she returned to consciousness, the thumping in her head so crushingly severe that she yearned for renewed oblivion. But it was not to be; her senses were already kicking in, feeding her information about the surroundings: the debris around, over and under her; the disconcerting quiet (as a school, Cackle's was _never_ quiet) and a sensation of pressing darkness so profound that she was surprised to open her eyes and find herself in an eerie grey half-light. A terrified squeak escaped her before she could catch it back—but the sound of it echoing in her own ears succeeded in jerking her out of her stupor.

She stretched as far as she could, cautiously wiggling everything to make sure it worked. When she was sure that nothing hurt beyond a bruise and that her body felt and moved as it should, she carefully manoeuvred herself out of the wigwam of accumulated deitrus and stumbled to her feet, her toes catching the hem of her robe.

She shivered, the quiet scaring her as much as the dark had.

'Is everyone OK?'

Silence.

Mildred started to panic; where were Ada, Amelia, Hecate and Constance? What if Constance had managed to whip the other three to safety and inadvertently left her behind? She discarded that idea at once; she'd had more than her fair share of altercations with Constance Hardbroom, but she knew the other woman valued the safety of the school and and its inhabitants above and beyond everything else. No; if Mildred was trapped here then her three colleagues were also present.

 _Somewhere_.

And in what condition?

Mildred was bruised and sore, her head still almost unbearably painful—but she had youth and comparative agility on her side. How would the explosion and fall have affected Amelia at almost eighty? The others weren't spring chickens either (not that she was idiot enough to ever say so to their faces). She judged Constance and Ada to be sixty or nearly that and even Hecate ...

'Amelia?' she called, aware her voice was starting to wobble. 'Constance? Constance, if you can hear me, please—'

A faint murmur reached her ears and it took everything she had not to burst into tears. 'Constance?'

The murmur came again and Mildred picked her way towards it. 'Constance, are you all right?' Frantically, she started to attempt to tug at the mountain of brickwork and wood, but she couldn't see and the dust clouds were threatening to choke her.

' _Stop_ , Mil ... Mildred,' a well-known voice ordered faintly, and Mildred fell to her knees.

'Constance, I can't ...'

An unintelligible mumble was her only response, but the timbre of it was familiar enough. Mildred forced herself to calm down. She knew the emergency spells, Amelia had taken her through them multiple times.

She closed her eyes to centre herself, breathing deep and slow and allowing the tingling sensation of power to fill her to her fingertips. Then she breathed out a single phrase and the debris around her shimmered, momentarily filling the cavern with light as the spell took action.

A moment later, the Deputy Headmistress's familiar bun poked through it, followed more slowly by her shoulders. She was covered by a fine layer of white dust that gave her an unearthly shimmer that might have unnerved Mildred at any other time—but she was also already talking, albeit faintly, and the sound of it made Mildred gasp with relief.

'I think, Mildred, that a little _light_ would be useful, don't you?' Constance suited the action to the word and within seconds the greyness brightened into something approximating daylight. A second spell removed her of the dust and returned her to something resembling her usual pristine black-clad self, but Mildred was alarmed when she made no attempt to stand.

'Are you all right, Miss Hardbroom?' she pressed. 'I'm worried about everyone else, and—'

'I am fine, Mildred. Well enough. That spell of yours—what was it, by the way?—has released the pressure on my legs. But I, uh, I would appreciate your help in rising.'

Mildred instantly proffered her hand, anxiously studying her former teacher as Constance regained her feet. She wasn't completely convinced that Constance was as unharmed as she claimed; something resembling pain had flickered across her features as she stood.

'Are you _sure_ you're OK?' she implored, knowing even as she spoke that she would get blasted for it. Nor was she disappointed.

Constance's lips compressed before she snapped, 'For the last time, Mildred, I am _fine_. Thanks to you,' she added grudgingly, and then: 'It is simply that I am … not as young as I used to be.'

If the situation had been less dire Mildred would have laughed, but Constance's comment reminded her of Amelia, who was _definitely_ too old for this. She met Constance's eyes and saw the worry in them and knew that the same thought had struck the Deputy Headmistress. Finding Amelia had become a priority.

'Where—where was she standing?' Mildred asked, dashing impatiently at a rebellious tear that insisted on trailing down her cheek. 'Wasn't she … ' Her breath caught as her eyes fell on the ruins of Amelia's beloved armchair, shattered beyond repair, and she clapped a hand to her mouth. 'Oh, _no_ —'

'Mildred, look at me.' Firm hands took her shoulders, but she couldn't tear her gaze from that sickeningly suggestive heap of upholstery and twisted wire. 'Mildred Hubble, look at me. _Now!_ '

Mildred's attention jerked back to Constance—literally so, to the point of whiplash, but Constance's grip on her shoulders did not ease.

'We need to find Amelia, and not _just_ Amelia,' the Deputy Headmistress continued, sternly reassuring. 'Ada and Hecate too. _All_ of us are needed to fix this; no-one is dispensable. We _will_ find them, Mildred, and we _will_ help them. Do you understand me?'

Reaction had set in and Mildred's teeth were chattering madly, but she managed a nod.

'Good.' Constance dusted her hands before extending them as though before a flame and closing her eyes; Mildred remained silent and still, hardly daring to breathe. She knew the older woman was attempting to seek out the magical signatures of the the other three. If she sensed them it would mean that all three yet lived, and give some idea of their whereabouts. Mildred refused to consider the alternative.

It seemed aeons but was only tens of seconds before Constance threw light spells towards three different parts of the room; they hung suspended in mid-air, magical lanterns.

'Ada and Hecate are over there; go to them,' the Deputy Headmistress ordered, already moving. 'I'll take care of Amelia.'

Mildred nodded despite the fact that Constance had turned away.

 _At least the soufflé spell makes it easy to move all this junk,_ she thought gratefully as she ploughed through heaps of masonry and timber with seemingly inhuman ease. When she uncovered a grey head urgency compelled her to move faster until Ada Cackle was revealed, curled peacefully on her side like a napping cat.

Mildred blinked. She'd steeled herself for blood and broken bones, not this apparent tranquility.

'Ada?' Mildred touched her shoulder. 'Ada, open your eyes for me.'

Eventually, Ada did, peering myopically as she stretched. 'My ... my glasses.'

Mildred scrabbled in the rubble around her and produced them, bent and smashed, but a quick _oculus reparo_ put that right.

'Where's everyone else?' Ada demanded once Mildred had helped her up. Glasses aside, she seemed her usual self. 'Hecate?'

'Constance is looking for Amelia and I came to you first,' Mildred explained, indicating the suspended ball of light some metres away.

'I see. Well, help me find Hecate.'

'But Amelia—' Mildred tried, casting a longing glance in Constance's direction. The older woman still seemed to be digging and dread sank cold and hard in Mildred's belly.

'Amelia has Constance,' Ada said, taking her arm in a surprisingly firm grip. 'Please, Mildred. I need your help.'

No-one had ever asked Mildred Hubble for help in vain, and Ada did not now. With a carefully suppressed sigh, Mildred accompanied the other Miss Cackle to Hecate's lantern, and together they swept away the rubbish.

'This is a useful spell,' Ada said after they'd been working in silence for a short while, Mildred's ears straining to hear what has happening across the room. 'What is it?'

' _Aeratum materia_.' She couldn't help her curtness; why the hell did Ada want to chat in an emergency? 'It's Amelia's. It transforms solid molecular structures into air bubbles, making it easy to move ... stuff,' she finished vaguely. 'And here she is!' She cleared the last bit of debris around Hecate and waited for Ada to check her, poised to run to Constance the moment Ada confirmed her subordinate was well.

But Hecate was not well. She lay very still, eyelashes shockingly dark against the whiteness of her skin. Her hair had fallen around her and lay in tangled dust-dyed lengths about her shoulders; as Mildred's gaze ran down her frame even she could tell that there was something very wrong with her left foot. The angle of it was sickeningly askew.

'She's—' she heard Ada say just as Constance called, 'Mildred!' and the implacable command in that voice sent her dashing across the room as quickly as reaction and rubble allowed.

'How is she?' she panted when she reached Constance's side. The older woman moved back and Mildred's breath hitched. Amelia was lying in the self-same position that she'd found Ada in, but otherwise her condition was identical to Hecate's: still, grey, and seemingly dead.

* * *

As Mildred knelt by Amelia Constance stood behind her, looking down on the prone form of her friend and employer, with her mind working rapidly. Mildred had informed her that Hecate was lying in very similar case, and Constance did not believe in coincidence.

 _Was_ there a tear in space-time? It wasn't unheard of in magical establishments, but it was reputedly difficult to fix. The fact that Castle Overblow and Ada's Academy seemed to be merging in spots pointed to that theory.

Or was the whole affair some kind of perception spell cast by an enemy? Constance's gaze went immediately to Ada. Was Ada actually Agatha Cackle in disguise? It wouldn't be the first time Amelia's twin sister had attempted to oust her, but who in that case was Hecate? Would Agatha—if Ada was indeed she—really harm one of her supporters? Doing so seemed hugely stupid to Constance; Agatha must know that she alone was no match for what Cackle's could throw at her...

But that explanation did not account for the apparent difference in age between Ada and Amelia. If Ada was Agatha, she was the same age as Cackle's Headmistress. Unless she was using a glamour spell to make herself appear different; younger. Or came from an alternative universe.

Constance rubbed her head, frowning. It was all getting so _complicated_.

'Miss Hardbroom?' Mildred said softly as though she was a pupil again, and Constance sent her a wry look.

'Yes, Mildred?'

'Shouldn't we move them?'

Responsibility descended heavily on Constance's shoulders. 'Of course we should. But not through magic!' she warned urgently as the younger woman prepared to cast. 'We've already had several magical events here and your _Aeratum_ spell is still in effect; I don't want to risk a double Foster's effect. First, your _Aeratum_ needs to be cancelled, lest its power ripple up through the building. I don't think we wish the castle to collapse like a house of cards?'

'No, Miss Hardbroom,' Mildred muttered, and cancelled the spell with a swift movement. Constance held her breath until the shimmer that signified the spell's working was done, and a quick tap of a nearby chunk of masonry confirmed that it was once again as it looked: imperturbable stone.

'Good.' Her mouth tightened as she thought of what must happen next; Mildred would need to gain access to the main school above and bring help. It would take too long for Constance, Mildred and Ada to move the immobilised pair themselves, and besides, Constance doubted she could. Her ankle was hurting like the very devil and she didn't trust her own agility in those circumstances.

She drew herself to her full height, careful not to put too much weight on the injured foot—but also careful not to show it. Constance knew better than anyone that Mildred Hubble had plenty of faults, but a lack of loyalty was not one of them. If Mildred knew that she too was injured she doubted the younger woman would agree to go. She'd probably insist on risking a Double Foster's and the Deputy Headmistress's blood ran cold at what that could mean.

At least there was another card to play; one that would amuse Mildred sufficiently that she wouldn't think to dig deeper.

'It's going to be up to you to fetch help. You're the youngest and fittest—and Mildred Hubble, if I _ever_ catch you repeating that to anyone I _promise_ you will regret it, colleague or not—and you can move more quickly and safely than Ada or I.' _And I don't want to leave you alone with Ada, just in case_. 'So don't stand there smirking, girl. _Go!_ '

Mildred jerked into action almost on the word, Constance's eyes following her until she'd disappeared down one of the claustrophobic passages that honeycombed the castle walls. Then she allowed herself to sink by Amelia's side, one hand reaching to check the other woman's pulse. It was slow—too slow—and Constance bit her lip before clasping her hands together, as if to restrain them.

'Constance?'

She glanced up, trying not to show her reaction. Agatha's voice was harsh and shrill, but Ada's was disconcertingly close to Amelia's.

 _Is Agatha even_ capable _of casting a glamour spell of that complexity?_

'What are we going to do?' the other woman asked, her eyes glassily huge behind her spectacles.

'Mildred's gone for help.' A beat. 'No change?'

Ada shook her head. 'Amelia?'

'No.' Constance's hand stretched out, almost of its own volition, to that pulse point once again.

'What do you think's happened?'

Constance's gaze was level. 'I ... I'm not sure. And frankly, Miss Cackle, speculation at this point is of _no_ use.'

'It'd help pass the time,' she heard Ada mutter.

'Shouldn't you return to Hecate?' Constance hinted.

Ada sent her a knowing look before clambering to her feet and making her way back to her own deputy. Constance could still feel her eyes on her, and repressed the desire to twitch.

'I know you're worried, under that stoic mask,'Ada said gently and Constance stiffened. 'You, me, Amelia and Hecate—we're all parts of the same whole if this is just a space-time incursion—'

 _Just!_ Constance echoed mentally.

'—which means I know you as well as you know me. And that means, Constance Hardbroom, that—'

'What if we're not?' Constance interrupted. 'What if Mildred's right? We can't be _parts of the same whole_ when there's so many differences.'

Ada waved a hand. 'Minor details, Constance'—and at that moment she sounded so like Amelia that the younger woman had to blink to clear her eyes.

'It could be a runaway timeline,' she said when she thought she could speak with her usual calm. 'Two realities, but only one is the real one.'

Ada stiffened. 'What are you implying?'

'I am attempting to suggest _possibilities_ ,' Constance hissed. 'Possibilities that do _not_ result in my eighty year old employer and friend lying unconscious. Possibilities that do _not_ result in our school being damaged—'

'And what about my school?' Ada cut in, and the grey eyes had turned steel behind their frames. 'At least you and Amelia are _here_. What is happening right now at _my_ Cackle's?'

 _If your Cackle's even_ exists! Constance thought furiously.

'You're assuming your timeline is the real one,' Ada continued. 'What if it's _not_ , Constance Hardbroom? What if _my_ school is the true, real Cackle's Academy, and your Cackle's and everyone in it is nothing but an _interloper?_ '

* * *

 _TBC!_

 _If you've got this far I'd love a review. Page views are very nice, favourites/follows are even better, but we all know nothing gives an author the warm'n'fuzzies as much a review!_


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks a million for the reviews! They really keep my enthusiasm levels up. Some folks can write fanfic with minimal feedback; I, sad to say, am not one of them. I NEED ZE LURVE.**

 **Liane** : You have no idea the temptation to quote the still-dead-to all appearances line completely accurately. It would have fit perfectly. Heroic restraint, I tell you!

 **Guest** : Oh, thank you. I really appreciate that. I always try (try being the operative word) to write with elegance so it's nice if it's commented on.

 **TheWorstTwitch** : _g_ Thanks! Well, that'd be telling, wouldn't it? Besides, it seems everyone would be devastated if I didn't kill off at least one HB... Or at least render them permanently unconscious _tongue very in cheek_.

 **Phantomlistener** : Thank you so much! I now have a good idea where I'm taking it, provided the characters don't decide to object. They could, you know.

 **CheekboneQZIE** : That's much easier to type the cumbersome Ze...! I'm more afraid I could be accused of copying them! But I had the ideas first. I did. Honest. ;)

* * *

 **Three**

* * *

When Mildred reached the ground floor she was horrified to find the explosion had rippled through the fabric of the building, leaving deep cracks spidering their way through the ancient walls. The only advantage was that nothing seemed to have actually _collapsed_ , but her childhood memories of her builder-uncle told her that any non-magical agency would take one look at those cracks and have Cackle's closed down in a jiffy. Not for the first time, she wondered what role magic played in maintaining Castle Overblow. It had been an interesting, often uncomfortable, and frequently frightening place to go to school; the passing years had done little to alter that (and she doubted anything would as long as Constance Hardbroom remained Deputy Headmistress).

She was hurrying to the chanting room through what _should_ have been the inner courtyard when she stopped dead, her heart sinking to her feet. The familiar courtyard was gone; in its place was a high-ceiling hall with polished wood floors and a sweeping staircase, also of wood—and in much better condition than the rickety one she knew so well.

Worse, she wasn't alone.

Huddling under the stairs in carefully placed chairs were Maud Spellbody and her own younger self. They caught sight of her at the same instant and the younger Mildred shot across the hall, heedless of Maud's pleas for her to stop.

For a moment Miss Hubble's innate curiosity warred with hard-won common sense. She longed to talk to the other Mildred; to find out whether or not they were, in fact, one and the same—but Constance was (annoyingly) correct and they couldn't risk it. She shouted 'I'm sorry!' and threw up a containment spell that trapped the younger Mildred where she'd slid to a stop, a metre and a half away.

'What'd you do that for?' Maud demanded, her hands going to her hips in a fashion that made Mildred blink. _Her_ Maud would never have spoken to a mistress like that—or not in first year. 'You could've just told her to _stop_.'

'Would you have listened?' Mildred asked her younger self. It was an odd thing to see her own eyes reflected back at her. 'If so, I'm—'

'You were right to do it, miss,' the younger Mildred said. She wrinkled her nose. 'I never stop to think, HB's always yelling about it.'

Mildred grinned ruefully. 'I know that too well.' She glanced around her. 'When did this appear?'

Maud frowned. 'Wasn't it always here?'

'No.' A shiver ran down Mildred's spine. 'No, it was not always here. This was a courtyard. When you turn this way'—she pivoted left and pointed, manners be damned, at one of the few doors to stay where it should be—'you can see HB's room. Look!'

Maud looked as frightened as Mildred felt. 'But that's not where our potions lab is. It's in the dungeons—'

'Miss, where are we?' young Mildred called, her fingers fretfully pulling at her braids. 'That teacher your HB sent us with walked down there'—she pointed in the direction of a corridor opening off the hall—'and _disappeared_. We were too scared to follow. Is this _our_ Cackle's Academy—or yours?'

'That's the question, isn't it.' Miss Hubble bit her lip. 'And until we can get both HBs and Miss Cackles awake and talking ...' She stopped as a bell rang, a second chill rippling through her when the hall remained quiet and still instead of heaving with crowds of chattering girls on their way to their next lesson.

She turned to Maud, snapping,'Have you seen anyone else while you've been here? Other girls, I mean?'

Maud shook her head. 'No-one. But it's lessons, so I thought—'

'It's not lessons now,' young Mildred pointed out. 'Oh, miss, what's _happening_?'

Miss Hubble was genuinely and deeply afraid—more afraid than she had been for many years, and certainly more afraid than she'd ever been within these walls. Her instincts as a teacher made her want to send Maud and her doppelgänger out of the building altogether, but her witch's sixth sense warned her not to do so. Who knew what they'd find, if the castle's exterior was as unstable as its interior? She couldn't leave them alone and she didn't want to bring them with her and find herself forced into closer (and possibly dangerous) proximity with young Mildred. _And_ there was the pressing need to get help for her colleagues in the dungeons...

The sound of creaking overhead settled it. She dismissed the containment spell with a flick of a finger and conjured a guiding light with another. The safety of the school as a whole came first; Constance would understand that better than anyone.

'I need to see if there's anyone else in the castle,' she told the girls. 'You two are to go to—to my Miss Hardbroom in the dungeons, the light will take you there. Your Miss Cackle is awake too,' she added when the girls looked unsure. The creaking amplified and Mildred sent a nervous glance ceiling-ward when flakes of plaster drifted down.

' _Now!_ ' she bellowed in a tone worthy of Constance herself, chivvying them on their way with an insistent gust of air.

She paused only long enough to see them vanish before picking up her robes and running as fast as her long legs would carry her towards the chanting room. Her heart beat erratically in her chest, making it difficult to catch her breath; a sensation that worsened as plaster-dust continued to rain down and classroom after classroom was revealed to be empty. Where was everyone? And how long would it be before the castle collapsed around them?

She nearly wept with relief when the chanting room was exactly where she'd expected it to be and Sybil Hallow was sitting placidly at her desk with a cup of tea and a pile of exercise books.

The younger woman's smile of greeting faded quickly. 'What's happened to _you?_ '

'What hasn't,' Mildred gasped, dropping into a chair. 'Syb, have you been here the whole time?'

'Since when?' Sybil asked, calmly taking another sip. Mildred found herself eyeing the cup longingly, only now realising how parched she was. 'I haven't seen anyone since this morning when Constance asked me to babysit that niece of mine. I was glad when the bell went for the end of that lesson, let me tell you!'

Mildred jerked upright. 'Pythia! Where is she now?'

Sybil glanced at her watch. 'She told me she had Charms with Amelia before lunch so I let her go. Even Pythia knows better than to play up either Amelia or HB.'

'She wasn't in Charms, Sybs,' Mildred said carefully. 'Neither was Amelia. Amelia and Constance and—and these _others_ are in the dungeons. Amelia's unconscious and the girls—most of them, anyway—they're _gone!_ And the castle isn't behaving like our Castle Overblow at all, it's confused, there's bits of another Cackle's bleeding through and Amelia's _hurt_ and so's Constance though I bet she thought I didn't notice and—and—'

'Everyone's gone?' Sybil interrupted, her eyes threatening to pop out of her head.

'As far as I could see, I looked through all the windows on the way here. I—I couldn't stop, I thought the ceiling was going to come down on me and—' Mildred broke off into a fit of coughing and Sybil brought her the cup.

'There's not much left,' she said apologetically as Mildred gratefully gulped it down. It was nearly cold but perfectly drinkable due to being herbal, and another thought brought her to her feet, the words falling out as fast as she could frame them.

'We have to _move_. We have to check there really isn't anyone else in the building and we have to fetch supplies and go back to the others.' A distant rumbling reached her ears and she shuddered and the sound and its implications, her eyes skittering to Sybil's. ' _Please_ tell me you heard that.'

To her relief, Sybil nodded, her eyes rounding in a manner that reminded Mildred of the days when Sybil Hallow was a first year famed for her ability to turn on the waterworks at the drop of a hat. Those days were long gone, however, and in their place was a young woman who had learned calm and composure—for the sake of her often temperamental instruments and pupils if nothing else.

'We'll need _plenty_ of supplies,' the chanting mistress commented with the practicality that had become such a hallmark of her adult self. 'If something's stirring, who knows how long we'll be down there.'

'Constance is gonna kill me,' Mildred said ruefully. 'I was supposed to find help to get them _out_ of the dunegeons.'

'Whatever's happened here, it's not your fault,' Sybil told her as she collected her own teaching robe and lead the way from her classroom. 'Even HB can't believe you're responsible for—' She ran down as they entered what should have been the main corridor and Mildred said nothing. There was nothing _to_ say in the face of such confused disarray; now the grand hall from earlier was fracturing, revealing areas that showed Castle Overblow's stone floors.

Instead, she grabbed the younger woman's arm and pulled her towards the stairs that lead down to the kitchens. There they could fetch food, water and even blankets and bandages from the little room that served as an infirmary. After that would come the journey through the dungeon's byzantine passages to the particular space under what had been the staff room. Assuming the passages were still there. Assuming they did not get hopelessly and completely lost.

* * *

The pain in Constance's ankle throbbed mercilessly with every anxious heartbeat, the discomfort exacerbated by her awkward position crouched by Amelia's side amongst the rubble. Her fading energies were reflected in the dying light of the magical lamps she'd conjured, and the Deputy Headmistress realised she was shivering. By contrast, Ada didn't seem unduly worried; she was sitting placidly by Hecate's side and showing no concern beyond the occasional gentle pat. For own part, Constance thought she would go mad with anxiety and fear.

'I _knew_ I shouldn't have sent that girl,' she fumed, more to herself than anyone else. 'Adult or not, she's still—' Her head snapped up when she heard the unmistakable sounds of footsteps, accompanied by a distinctive dragging of bootlaces.

Her relief came out in a slow breath. 'Mildred Hubble, have you _still_ not learned do your bootlaces?'

'Please, miss, it's us,' a little-girl voice said and Constance peered into the deepening gloom. It took a moment for her addled brain to put the unfamiliar pieces together, but eventually she remembered that the pigtails and glasses belonged to the child who called herself Maud Spellbody. 'Miss Hubble sent me and Millie to you. She said it's not safe up there!'

Constance stiffened. 'Not _safe?_ '

'It's like an earthquake, miss.' Maud seemed to relish the drama of it. 'Bits of castle _everywhere_ —'

'Like a disaster movie,' young Mildred Hubble added. 'After something went _BOOM_!'

'Something _did_ ,' Constance told them, too weary to be sarcastic. 'And something may yet do worse than _boom_ , Mildred Hubble, so find yourself somewhere to sit quietly until Miss Hubble gets back—'

Maud came closer, the scant light reflecting off her glasses. 'We thought she'd be here by now.' Constance could hear the uneasiness in her voice. 'It's ages since she left us.'

'What if she's lost?' That was Mildred. 'What if we're _stuck_ —'

'That's enough!' Constance cut in. She'd learned from long and painful experience the folly of allowing _any_ Mildred Hubble's imagination to run riot. 'I have more faith in Miss Hubble than you seem to. I told her to get help, and we must believe that help we shall have.'

The girls subsided at that. Constance tried to shift but a bolt of agony shot up her leg and she bit deep into her lip rather than show pain before the children. She found herself wondering why they were still with her, when Ada was only metres away.

She was about to pose the question when a rustle of stiff fabric made her glance up. Young Mildred knelt beside her, looking suddenly small as she reached out to touch Amelia.

'Mildred,' Constance cautioned and the girl's hand dropped.

'Is she gonna be OK?'

'That is not for you to worry about.' _Come on, Ada. These are your pupils, take them!_ 'I'm sure we will a find a way to help both _our_ Miss Cackle and _your_ Miss Hardbroom.' It was odd to say her own name and mean another.

' _HB?_ ' Maud echoed while Mildred said, 'Is she hurt?'

Constance tried not to sigh again, but _really_. 'Miss Cackle?' She'd already _done_ Mildred and Co. at this age. She wasn't doing it again. Once was quite bad enough and she had the grey hairs (under the carefully applied hair dye) to prove it.

Ada didn't answer and Constance gritted her teeth and reminded herself to be diplomatic.

'Miss Cackle?'

She saw Ada jump. 'Yes, Miss …um.'

'Hardbroom,' Maud supplied helpfully.

'Hardbroom,' Ada parroted and Constance closed her eyes momentarily before forcing herself to her feet, willing her body to remain upright.

'Where are you going?' Ada demanded sharply.

'To check on you, Miss Cackle.' Constance began to limp across the room, her breath hitching involuntarily when her injured foot was jarred by the inevitable scraps of unseen rubble. 'I fear you have sustained a concussion.'

'I am perfectly all right,' Ada snapped. 'Stay with the girls.'

Constance stopped in her tracks, taken aback at the flat command in the older woman's tone. In thirty-odd years of working together Amelia had rarely spoken to her in that voice. The small hairs on the back of her neck lifted and she found herself shivering again, this time convulsively.

'What about Hec—Miss Hardbroom?' Perhaps she could work with herself better than she could work with this odd version of Amelia. At least she could guarantee the other Hardbroom would be _efficient_.

'Still out of it.' A pause, then a stiff, 'Amelia?'

'No change.' Constance started to say more and changed her mind. She began to move towards Amelia once more when an unwary movement sent a sickening white-hot lance of pain through her foot; the resulting dizziness drove her to her knees in an attempt to remain conscious.

If Mildred did not return, she would have to find a way to help everyone. Normally she would transfer the whole group to wherever she wanted to go, but just now she did not dare. There was too great a risk that someone would literally be lost in transit. Never to mention the fact that right now she doubted if she even could.

Hecate was out of commission, as was Amelia. Ada … Constance did not know what to think of the other Miss Cackle. Ada … Ada she did not _trust_ , it was as simple as that. That only left the girls. _Children_.

'D'you need help, miss?' a tentative voice asked and Constance had to repress her instinctive indignant denial. All the more so when the question came from Mildred Hubble.

'That would be kind,' she acknowledged, and allowed the girl to take her hand and steady her as she stood. Mildred was about to step back when Constance said, 'Wait.'

She stared so long and so intently at the child that Mildred started to shuffle uncomfortably.

'You're Mildred Hubble.'

Even in the dim light she could see Mildred's white brow crunch in confusion. 'Yes, miss.'

'The _only_ person who has remained more or less herself.'

'Yes, miss.'

Excitement bubbled through Constance and she made herself take a deep breath; the process steadied her and her mind regained its usual clarity. 'Mildred, you and I don't know each other very well, do we?'

Mildred looked wary. 'No, miss.'

'And I know I can be ... strict.' In her memory another young Mildred from many years ago said, _We hate it when you shout at us_.

'Yes, miss.' Constance did not think she'd imagined Mildred's step backwards, or the quick glance she sent towards Maud—who once again proved her eternal loyalty by coming to stand at her friend's side.

'Do you trust that no matter how strict I may be, or how much I may ... shout ... at you, I have only your best interests at heart?'

The girls exchanged a look before Maud said hesitantly, 'I _think_ so, Miss Hardbroom.'

Mildred, meanwhile, looked straight at Constance with frank brown eyes and said, 'Of course, miss.' Then she turned to Maud. 'We don't think, we _know_. Remember how our HB helped me on selection day.'

'But this one isn't ours,' Maud hissed, all too audibly.

Constance's hands clenched before she clasped them, her forefingers coming to her lips as she considered. Maud's support probably didn't matter as long as she had Mildred's (and in her heart of hearts Mildred's unquestioning trust warmed her more than she'd expected). All the same, Mildred needed Maud. The other girl's solid common sense was her anchor, just as Amelia's staunch kindness acted as a foil to Constance's strictness. They _balanced_ each other, and would always work better together than either could apart.

'What's going on over there?' Ada called. 'Mildred and Maud, I hope you're not bothering Miss Hardbroom. Get over here and sit down quietly!'

'It's all right, Miss Cackle,' Constance returned swiftly as Maud's eyes widened and Mildred flinched. 'We're just ... having a little chat.' She hoped that the smile in her voice was more genuine than the rictus grin she could feel on her face.

'What d'you want me to do, Miss Hardbroom?' Mildred asked while Maud folded her arms and tried to look formidable.

'We know there's something,' she added. 'You'd never be this nice to Millie without a reason.'

Constance did not try to argue; she could hardly in honesty dispute the point. She sent a furtive glanced towards Ada before saying softly, 'Very well. Yes, Mildred, I do need you. We _all_ need you. I'm worried that Miss Hubble hasn't returned. I'm worried about your Miss Hardbroom and our Miss Cackle; it will be night soon and there's no heating down here.' _And I won't leave them all alone with a woman I don't trust._ 'But you ... you _are_ Mildred Hubble. There's a spell, an ancient one, that could allow you to talk directly to _our_ Mildred. It's hardly even magical in the normal way, it's simply getting ... two parts of the same person to communicate.'

'Is it dangerous?' Maud asked, her eyes narrowing behind her specs.

'It could be,' Constance admitted. 'Maud, I've never done this spell before. I don't think anyone has; you can understand why. It comes from an old philosophy book I read at college. I don't know if it will work but we're running out of options here. You need to return to your own Cackle's Academy and we need our school— _and_ our Headmistress—back.'

' _Girls!_ ' Ada shouted. 'Come here. _Now!_ '

Maud looked towards her and shrugged. 'Sorry, miss. Miss Cackle—' she pulled Mildred with her and a band of pain tightened around Constance's forehead whilst her stomach churned.

She had failed. She had needed the girls to trust her and now— _now_ , when it really mattered—she had _failed_. Mistress Broomhead had once told her she was not cut out to be a teacher. For the first time in nearly forty years, Constance was tempted to believe her.

She lowered herself carefully by Amelia's side, her fingers going once again to the pulse point on the older woman's neck. The heart continued to beat strongly, but slowly, and there was no response when Constance pinched the skin on the back of her hand. That meant something was seriously wrong, she knew. Brain damage, perhaps. Or coma.

Time passed.

She no idea how long or short; she had lost all sense of it beyond what she could feel in her own anxious pulse's or Amelia's. Rather than drive herself mad with worry, she started to mentally recall the contents of the book she'd mentioned to Maud, but her reading was cursory at best and it was more than a lifetime ago. The spell had stuck because she found it interesting and her brain considered it worth retaining; everything else was decidedly sketchy.

 _Careless, Constance!_ she scolded mentally, her internal voice recalling Hecketty Broomhead as it always did. _No knowledge is wasted. None._

She was so deep in her stupor of regret that she did not hear the rustlings as someone crossed the room; did not hear a soft voice calling her name—was in fact entirely unaware until her arm was tapped.

She jumped, only just managing to repress a cry of pain as her ankle protested.

'Sorry, Miss Hardbroom,' young Mildred said softly. 'Maud an' Miss Cackle are asleep, but I couldn't stop thinking about what you said. I want to do it, miss. I want to get us all out of here.'

'Thank you, Mildred Hubble.' A half-laugh escaped Constance's lips. ' _Again_.'

'Miss?'

Constance shook her head. 'Never mind, Mildred, never mind. It doesn't matter. We need to do this and I'd rather it was done quickly.'

'What do I have to do?'

'Make sure you're comfortable and steady. Better sit down; I don't trust you not to fall over your own feet half way through!'

To Constance's surprise, the girl giggled. 'That _does_ sound like something I'd do. OK. I'm "sitting comfortably" like my mum says. What's next?'

'Take a deep breath and focus. Clear your mind of all distractions.' Constance kept her voice soft and low, dropping her usual authoritative classroom tone. Some instinct told her that would not work now—and in any case, she didn't want to risk being overheard. 'Now visualise Miss Hubble, imagine her _here_ , and repeat after me: _sui ad sui, orbis terrarum, tempus temporis, tanto monta, monta tanto, qui vocat vos!'_

Mildred obeyed, her childish voice repeating the words with a clarity that surprised Constance more than she'd ever confess. When the girl finished there was a flash of light and ... nothing.

After an endless pause, Mildred whispered, 'Why didn't it work? Did I do it wrong?'

'No.' Constance had to swallow the lump in her throat before she could continue. 'You did it perfectly, Mildred Hubble. Perhaps _I_ was wrong—'

'What did it mean?'

Constance closed her eyes and repeated the line: '"Self to self, world to world, time to time. As much as one is worth, so is the other: I summon you!"'

'Wow.' She heard Mildred shift beside her. 'I'm sorry it didn't work.'

There was a series of clatterings and the pair looked up, startled, as Ada stumbled towards them.

'What did you do? Mildred, what did she make you _do_?'

Constance felt Mildred recoil. 'Miss Cackle, I was just—'

'Mildred couldn't sleep and neither could I,' Constance improvised quickly. 'I was just ... helping her with her spellwork.'

Ada laughed. 'You?! _Helping?_ Good god, woman, you really have gone soft.'

Before Constance could protest the dungeons seemed to shake. She heard Maud scream, but she was too busy trying to protect Mildred and the prone Amelia. One wall collapsed with a dramatic crash—thankfully, it was at the far side of the room—and resulted in a truly horrendous cloud of dust than set everyone to coughing and choking. Once she'd recovered her own breath Constance tried to peer into it, but to no avail.

And then she heard a blessedly familiar voice say, 'Constance? Constance, are you there?'

'I'm here.' Relief brought her to her feet, the pain in her ankle almost forgotten. 'We're all here, Mildred.'

'It _worked!_ ' young Mildred shrieked at a pitch that hurt the Deputy Headmistress's eardrums. Then, to her eternal shock, the girl threw her arms around Constance's waist. 'Miss, we _did_ it!'

'We've brought supplies,' she heard a second voice say—Sybil Hallow's, she thought. 'Looks like we're down here for the duration, Miss Hardbroom. The place is falling apart up there.'

'How's Amelia?' Mildred asked. She sounded closer and Constance thought she could see a trace of her, a ghostly figure amongst the dust. She put young Mildred aside and limped towards her former pupil.

'She's—' she started only to be cut off by another yell from Maud.

'Miss Cackle! Miss Hardbroom! _Everybody_. It's our HB, she's stopped breathing!'

* * *

 **TBC**

 **Hah. I had a minor fit over this about halfway through (as Em could tell you) but despite that this chapter ended up becoming a monster. I hope it was worth it and I'd love to hear from you if you're reading. Until next time!**


	4. Chapter 4

**wiccancharmedguy:** Nope, it's certainly not! Read on to see if Hecate makes it—or just gets tortured some more.

 **Duchene-fan** : LOL at the brain-twistery. I hope that means good twistery and not, 'Er, that doesn't even make SENSE.' Because if it's the latter mind you let me know. I'm not _trying_ to confuse people. Much.

 **phantomlistener** : Cliffhanger? Was there a cliffhanger? Thanks for the comment re the Mildreds and the rapport between the older Mildred/Constance. Bit more of that coming up.

 **the stargate time traveller** : That would be telling, wouldn't it!

 **Dreamsinlilac** : Thank you! I'm having great fun with this so it's nice to know readers are enjoying it too.

 **ZeIncomparableEm** : Well. You should be happy, milady, because instead of doing what I _should_ have done (to wit, written more of _MH_ ) I have produced more of this, um, _effusion_. With specific bits for your delectation which I'm certain you will easily divine.

 **Now to the story. Allons-y! (Yes, I know. Wrong fandom. Minor detail)**

* * *

 **Four**

* * *

Miss Hubble reached Maud and Hecate first. The girl was crouched beside her form mistress (Mildred paused at that thought; _was_ Hecate Maud's form mistress? Impossible to think otherwise) and squeezing her hand in a manner that Mildred absolutely _knew_ would send the woman into an apoplexy of affronted dignity if she'd known of it. Conjuring a light, she wasted no time in bending over the older woman, all her senses trained on detecting any sign of life. Certainly the initial signs were not encouraging. Hecate was pale unto death and her lips were an alarming shade of blue, but when Mildred looked closely she could see the barely perceptible rise and fall of the other woman's chest. Furthermore, her pulse was sound—stronger than Amelia's, in fact.

Frowning, Mildred carefully replaced the thin wrist on the ground and sent Maud running for the blankets she and Sybil had brought. There was no doubt that Hecate was unwell, but was she truly as unwell as she seemed? At least there was no mistaking the state of the woman's foot. That was broken, pure and simple, and badly too if Mildred was any judge.

'Well, Mildred?' Constance asked and she turned in relief.

'It's strange. Maud to the contrary, she _is_ breathing, you can see if you watch very carefully, and her other signs are … Well, they're not _great_ but I don't think she's in any imminent danger of dying.'

Constance looked dubious. 'Are you certain? She looks—'

'I know.' Mildred scrambled to her feet and stepped towards the Deputy Headmistress, her voice lowering. 'It _is_ only looks, though. As far as I can see the most serious injury is the foot—and goodness knows, that's bad enough.'

'Very well.' Standing this close, Mildred did not miss Constance's quiet sigh. 'I shall see to it, Mildred. Thank you. Now if you could—'

'What about _your_ foot?' Mildred heard Sybil say and she turned to see the Chanting mistress approach with Maud by her side, both laden with the pillows and blankets the latter was sent to fetch. 'And don't try to deny it, Constance. Mil _said_ she thought you'd been hurt and I've been watching. You're limping.'

Constance's eyes narrowed dangerously. 'A slight twist, no more.'

Sybil raised her eyebrows and Mildred shrugged in resigned response. They watched as Maud covered Hecate with the blankets; she was perhaps less careful than she could have been and Mildred was unsurprised when Constance protested.

'Watch her foot, Maud Moon— _oh_. Maud _Spellbody_!' Mildred found herself exchanging a quick grin with Sybil at the slip and Constance noticed. 'Anything to say, _girls?_ ' The emphasis she put on that last word sent Mildred, at least, skipping back fifteen years—but Sybil was not so easily ruffled.

'Only that you seem to have overlooked something, Miss Hardbroom.'

'Oh?'

' _Your_ injured foot, Constance,' Sybil insisted with the calm self-assurance Mildred had come to associate with all the Hallows of her acquaintance. 'It's your left, isn't it?'

Constance's eyes had narrowed into dark slits for the second time in nearly as many minutes, but she nodded. Mildred watched Sybil closely as the younger woman continued, some instinct telling her to pay attention.

'Well, it's the same as Hecate's. And Mil, have you noticed you _and_ Millie each have a nasty bump just here?' Sybil touched the sore spot on the side of Mildred's head and she flinched, but the pain made her think.

'What about Ada and Amelia? Ada seems fine, but Amelia—'

'I think her situation resembles Hecate's,' Constance said slowly. 'Unlike Hecate, she has no obvious injury beyond the seeming … coma, for want of a better word. I have watched her carefully since the explosion and I believe she too looks more ill than she actually is.'

'That doesn't explain why _Ada's_ OK. _And_ it's no use if neither of them wake up,' Mildred added gloomily. 'You said yourself we need everyone to put things right.'

'Enough of this,' Constance snapped when Sybil seemed poised to comment further. 'There's too much talking and not enough doing. Maud, run and find … Millie … and see if the two of you can't get some rest. It must be nearly midnight by now.'

Mildred peered at her watch. 'Half eleven.'

'Well past your bedtime,' Miss Hardbroom added in her sternest tones and Maud reluctantly obeyed, leaving the three adults alone.

'Make that light brighter, Mildred,' Constance instructed as she bent forward to reveal Hecate's twisted foot. 'Higher, I need to see what I'm doing.' Her fingers were already in the casting position and Sybil grabbed her arm before she could begin, an act of temerity that made Mildred's light bob in surprise.

'Wait. Mil, is it safe? Didn't you say something about the Foster's Effect earlier?'

Now the look Constance sent them was positively filthy. 'Do you take me for a fool, Sybil Hallow? _Naturally_ I've already done a reversing spell. The Foster's Effect should be negligible. Now get out of my way!'

Sybil obeyed with a small grimace only Mildred could see, but her eyes were worried.

'I'm still not sure about this,' she whispered into Mildred's ear as Constance began the spell that should repair Hecate's broken ankle. 'I've got a bad feeling—'

'Too late now,' Mildred murmured—but she held her breath until Constance pronounced the foot repaired and turned to her former pupils with a smile that could more honestly be described as a smirk.

'You see, girls?'

Before they could reply a rasping voice queried, 'A-ada?'

Sybil ran for the other Miss Cackle while Mildred dropped to her knees beside Hecate.

'How are you feeling, Miss Hardbroom? Constance—that is, our Miss Hardbroom—has just fixed your ankle. It was broken. You might have concussion too—'

Hecate was peering at her, dark eyes clouded. 'Who are you? Where's Ada? Where am I?'

Mildred's heart sank. They hadn't anticipated _this_. 'I'm Miss Hubble, Miss Hardbroom.' No point in befuddling the woman further by saying she was _Mildred_ Hubble. 'You've had a … slight accident. We've sent for Miss Cackle, but here's Constance now.'

'Ada …' Hecate's eyes fluttered as though it was taking too much effort to keep awake.

' _Hecate Hardbroom!_ ' Constance boomed and Mildred jumped. 'You have a head injury. You must not go back to sleep!'

Hecate's eyes flew open and Mildred found herself quailing at the dark look that passed between the two HBs.

'Who are you?' Hecate said again, and Mildred's tummy flipped. The thought of Miss Hardbroom— _any_ Miss Hardbroom in _any_ universe being as afraid as Hecate sounded at this moment was fundamentally wrong, the very antithesis of what should be.

 _If only Constance hadn't sent Maud away_.

She stared fixedly at the corner to where the two girls were attempting to make themselves comfortable until Millie turned; a wave summoned the child to her side.

' _Mildred_ —' Constance warned, and the younger woman met her eyes squarely.

'I'm not going to touch her. I'm not an idiot, whatever you might think, but Hecate's panicking. She'll have a stroke if we don't calm her down.'

Constance's sniff indicated her opinion of this, but when Millie reached them she beckoned the girl closer.

'Now, Mildred,' she began and the older Mildred twitched despite herself; that authoritative tone still had an effect. 'Miss Hardbroom is awake but she's a little upset and she's not sure where she is. Your job is to reassure her until Miss Hallow arrives with Miss Cackle, understood?'

Millie nodded eagerly and sat by her teacher, who seemed rigid with fear, and spoke very softly. 'Miss? Miss Hardbroom?'

' _Mildred Hubble_ ,' Hecate murmured. The dark eyes opened. 'Of course it would be.'

'It's OK, Miss Hardbroom,' Millie said, leaning close enough that one long plait swung forward to brush Hecate's shoulder. 'Everyone's OK and—and we're trying to find a way back to our own worlds—'

' _What?!_ ' Hecate echoed, her voice turning shrill. ' _Worlds?!_ What do you— Ada. _Ada!_ Where's Ada?'

'That worked well,' Constance hissed to Mildred as she chivvied Millie away. ' _Sybil!_ Get Ada here at the _double_ , if you have to drag her!' She turned back to Hecate, saying urgently: 'Hecate, focus on my voice. You are _safe_. Ada is _safe_ , she's on her way. Tell me, what's the last thing you remember?'

Hecate's breathing was coming in quick gasps.

'Ada…' Her skin took on a pearly pallor and Mildred's gut twisted in renewed anxiety. what if she'd been wrong about Hecate's state? What would it mean for them all if she died? 'Where's Ada…?'

'Here!' Sybil called and Mildred twisted to see the chanting mistress urging the other Miss Cackle along. She seemed unwilling, her steps dragging, and with Sybil's earlier comments still ringing in her ears Mildred observed her closely.

She had seemed unharmed earlier; indeed, on the surface Ada had fared better than anyone else in the aftermath of the explosion. Something had changed in the meantime. Now she looked tired—desperately tired, exhaustion emphasising every line and wrinkle in her face. She stumbled as she approached and only Mildred's reflexive grab kept her upright.

Not that Mildred got any thanks for her pains. Ada ignored her, her attention focused on her deputy.

'Is she—?'

'She's _alive_ ,' Constance said with a worn intensity that jerked Mildred's attention to her. She shivered at what she saw; if Hecate had looked pearly pale earlier, Constance had turned positively waxen, the dark circles around her eyes deepening with every passing second.

'Hecate,' Ada breathed and Mildred tore her gaze from her Deputy Headmistress to the pair on the floor. Ada seemed to hesitate before crouching by her deputy's side. 'Hecate, I'm here.'

But Hecate did not seem to see her. She stared straight past her, her eyes feverishly bright. 'Ada, I'm sorry—'

Ada took her hand, muttering something that sounded like, 'Hecate, _stop this_. I told you that—' but Mildred was no longer listening.

Constance was swaying where she stood and Mildred grabbed Sybil's arm and nodded. They moved towards their Deputy Headmistress but they were not fast enough, and Constance crumpled bonelessly to the ground.

* * *

'Bloody stubborn woman,' Sybil grumbled for the fifth time (or so it seemed) as they tried to bring Constance round. Mildred estimated it was nearly half an hour since the older woman lost consciousness, and every moment she remained unconscious tightened in the coil of fear in Mildred's belly.

'Why didn't she _ask_ for help?' Sybil was muttering as she turned her attention to Constance's ankle. 'She's might be a bloody powerful witch and the closest thing to omniscience that Cackle's has, but she is not bloody immortal _or_ infallible!'

'Try telling _her_ that,' Mildred said sadly. She cradled her former mistress's head on her lap, having already unwound the fiendishly tight bun for comfort's sake. 'How's the foot? Is it broken, like—' but Sybil was shaking her head, frowning.

'It might be twisted, like she said, but I don't think there's a break.' She sat back on her heels, the line between her brows deepening. 'Mil, I'm sure it was painful but we both know Constance has a mind-bogglingly high pain threshold. I've seen her teach through a migraine that would have sent _us_ straight to bed _and_ spewing into buckets to boot. Amelia once told me it was because of that Broomhead woman—'

'Amelia!' Mildred interrupted. 'Sybs, isn't it odd that now we've lost both HBs and Amelia? Apart from us, the only adult left is Ada—'

'Who looks ready to fall over at a tap,' Sybil said. 'She was practically catatonic when I fetched her. She might not be hurt but—' She shrugged.

Mildred's jaw muscles clenched. 'Constance doesn't trust her.'

'Constance doesn't trust anyone.'

'She trusts _us_ ,' Mildred retorted, stung. 'She does. She trusts Amelia.'

'Can you imagine not trusting Amelia?' Sybil asked, eyebrows raised, and Mildred sighed, conceding that point.

She rubbed her temples, forcing her tired and shocked mind into something resembling logical thought.

'Two Cackle's Academies. Two Miss Hardbrooms. Two Miss Cackles. Only all of those are different. And—'

'Two of you,' Sybil reminded her with a grin. 'Maybe _that's_ why the senior staffs are out of it, they can't cope with two Mildred Hubbles.'

'Ha ha,' Mildred returned sarcastically. 'But are we really perfect doubles?' Ignoring Sybil's indignant protests, she called her younger self over; she arrived with a stubborn-looking Maud and Mildred made no comment, simply indicating for the pair to sit down.

'Right, Millie,' she began. 'Since all this started everyone's done their level best to keep us apart, haven't they? They're all convinced that the worlds will end if we touch because we're supposed to be exactly the same people—'

'But you can't be,' Maud said. 'You're grown up and she's not. Even if you were the same person when you were our age, you're not now, are you?' She peered closely at Mildred. 'Millie's eyes are more like brown, but yours are ... they're greenish, really. And your hair is wavier and redder than hers—'

'I think you'll find that's out of a bottle,' Sybil supplied drily and Mildred sent her a scowl.

Maud continued unabashed. 'And I bet that's not all. I bet if you talked you'd find more.'

'Thanks, Maud. That's what I was _trying_ to do,' Mildred told her. It was an effort to keep a waspish edge from her voice and—not for the first time since she'd started teaching—she found herself in sudden sympathy with her own former mistresses. ' _If_ you don't mind?'

Maud went pink. 'Sorry, miss.'

Mildred relaxed. 'That's OK. And for the record, you're quite right. Millie, tell me about yourself. How long have you known you're a witch?'

She listened as Millie told her story. She heard about Maud and broomsticks and her mother (but no dad) and how Millie worried about her, all alone in their tiny flat. She heard about coming to Cackle's and houses and tabby kittens and flying tests gone mad and saving the school ... So much was familiar that Mildred would attempt to complete the story in her head, only to find that there were subtle but crucial differences. At any rate, it all boiled down to one conclusion: despite everyone's fears, she and Millie were not one and the same, and she let out the breath she hadn't realised she was holding.

'That confirms it,' Sybil said when Millie finally ran down. 'It's two separate universes. I don't think it's anything to do with time, there's no point I can see where everything suddenly changed, it's ... it's just the same, but different _enough_.'

Mildred nodded agreement. 'Which is a good thing,' she said, mainly for the sake of the troubled looking first years. 'That's progress. Now we know for certain what's going on, we've got a frog's chance of sorting it out.'

'And _how_ , Mildred Hubble—or should that be Mildred _Hubbles_ —do you propose to do _that?_ ' a quiet voice said from Mildred's lap and the little group started.

'Right on time, Constance,' Sybil said, leaning forward with a smile. 'As usual.'

'Hmmm.' Constance tried to sit up and Mildred helped her; once securely propped by the two young mistresses the Deputy Headmistress studied them all. ' _Well?_ ' she prompted weakly, and Mildred exchanged a worried look with Sybil over her head.

Millie was sitting embracing her knees, her chin resting atop them and the ends of her plaits brushing the floor. 'I was thinking—' she began tentatively.

'Hmm,' Constance said again. 'Go on, then.'

'Well, if this is like, two different worlds all mashed up ... can't we just separate them? And us? 'Cos think about it, right, we've all been jumbled up together since this started.'

'Good heavens, she's right,' Mildred said blankly. 'She's _exactly_ right, Constance. Even if we've been in one Academy or the other, we've still nearly always been mixed up _ourselves_.'

'Apart from that time in my room. That was just us,' Sybil reminded her and Mildred nodded eagerly.

'Yes! And remember, Sybs, you didn't know anything until I told you. You were just sitting there drinking your tea, as if nothing had happened—'

'In that case the solution is simple,' Constance put in and everyone looked at her. Her lips twitched. 'Maud and ... Millie, you and your teachers will go to Ada's office. _We_ shall proceed to the potions lab. We shall arrange to do the homing spell _at the same time_ —'

'What's that, "there's no place like home" and click my heels three times?' Millie muttered to Maud. She had a clear voice and everyone heard.

Constance's eyes narrowed. 'Mildred _Hubble_ —'

'Stop terrorising the kid, Constance,' Sybil said and Mildred blinked at the younger woman's audacity, taken aback by it all over again. Especially when Constance merely transferred her glare to Sybil but—wonder of wonders—allowed her to proceed. 'That's probably exactly what we should do. Remember what Amelia used to tell us, Mil? For spells it's the intention that matters, not the words. You can do a _pirouette_ if you want, girls, provided your entire wills and hearts are focused on going home.'

'Like "Dorothy",' Millie said with a toothy grin and Sybil nodded.

'And just like Dorothy, you need to think about your heart's desire. That's probably getting back to your mum, Millie, and for Maud it's—'

'Just getting back to normal, miss,' that young woman said. 'I hate it when everything's all messed up.'

'As do I,' Constance agreed with a sigh. She sounded weaker again and Mildred cast her an anxious glance.

'Constance, I really think you should lie down.'

The older woman's jaw hardened. 'I can rest once this is sorted, Mildred. Restoring the status quo should be your priority, girls, not … fussing over patients.'

'Even when those patients are essential to restoring the status quo?' Sybil said pointedly and Constance rubbed the bridge of her nose. Her weariness was tangible, and in truth Mildred's own eyes were growing heavy. It had been a long day.

She yawned. 'I think we should sleep on it.'

'No.' The gravity in the Deputy Headmistress's tone startled her into complete alertness. 'We haven't got time for that.' She took a deep breath and began to quote: '"Experience has shown the the partial merging of universes within a magical context is inherently unstable. Consequently, this is a _profoundly dangerous_ phenomena for those individuals caught within the resulting space-time bubble; _no effort_ should be spared in facilitating the separation and realignment of the original universes within twenty-four hours of fusion. Failure to do so will lead to the subatomic collapse of one or both—and the deaths of all trapped therein."'

And at moment—almost as if _something_ had been waiting—the lanterns sustained by the witches' magic winked out, plunging the dungeons into impenetrable darkness.

* * *

 **TBC**

 **Next time: more questions, but will answers come fast enough to prevent catastrophe? Tune in and find out!**

 **Don't forget to let me know what you think. Chuck in your thoughts and ideas (some of you will do that anyway ;) ) 'cos anything that keeps me thinking about this is GOOD.**


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